Chapter 50

The stands were a riot of chatter and energy. Disciples squeezed into empty spots, laughing and shouting greetings to friends.
All eyes were fixed on the arena, where the coming match was about to begin. Two prodigies of the new generation: “Rainfall Benevolence” Xiao Changge, praised by all, would face off against the infamous, much-maligned yet terrifyingly strong Zhuo Yu.
On the stage, wherever Xiao Changge stood, life blossomed, verdant grass sprang up under his feet, and a torrential rainstorm battered the air above. On Zhuo Yu’s side, a blaze raged, flames churning and rolling upward into a pillar of smoke, fire against water in a spectacular collision. Where their powers met, molten gold clashed with thunder, raging water dragons collided with searing fire, creating a breathtaking spectacle.
“Xiao Xue, over here!” Miao Hong’er waved from the stands, making room for Mu Xue beside her.
“What took you so long? One of these two is your next opponent, you know.” Miao Hong’er tugged Mu Xue down beside her, pressing a sticky rice roll dusted with soybean flour into her hand. “You good? Didn’t get hurt in the last match, right? Save your strength and get some rest while you can.”
“Ding Lanlan got hurt. I just helped take her back,” Mu Xue replied, rolling the multi-layered treat between her fingers before popping it in her mouth.
Sweet, fragrant, soft and chewy, each bite melting like a dream on her tongue.
“So good. Give me another,” she mumbled, cheeks puffed out as she snatched a second piece from Miao Hong’er’s bag.
Satisfaction blossomed inside her, warm and slow.
Mu Xue suddenly realized, she couldn’t remember when it had started, but these days she could relax and accept snacks from her senior sister without even worrying they might be poisoned.
Was she really past all that?
Mu Xue paused, licking the powdered soybean from her fingertips and glancing toward the fierce spectacle unfolding in the arena.
On the higher seats reserved for the main peaks, several Golden Core elders had arrived, eager to witness their own disciples make it to the finals.
Su Xingtin sat beside Kong Ji from Xuandan Peak, chatting quietly. “Changge really turned out well, not only is his talent for alchemy top notch, but his spellwork is outstanding, too. You must be proud.”
Kong Ji straightened up, smug. “Hmph, we of Xuandan Peak specialize in the art of pills. Sparring and brute force isn’t the main event for us. As long as our kids put on a decent show, who cares? Besides, that girl from your side is making even bigger waves right now, isn’t she?”
"You know how it is, kids from Xiaoyao Peak are left to their own devices. Grown wild, basically, half their training is roughhousing. Told her time and again to go easy on her fellow disciples, stop trying to win me face, but does she ever listen?" Su Xingtin snapped open his folding fan and waved it with a grin.
Kong Ji snorted dismissively through his nose.
Nearby, a couple Golden Core cultivators huddled together, whispering gossip.
"That's the kid ‘Blazing Fire across the Land’, right?" The speaker's face twisted with contempt. "Arrogant little brute, never liked the look of him. Why would the sect leader bring someone like that in?"
"Shhh, keep it down," cautioned the other, glancing nervously at the sect leader seated up on the dais. He lowered his voice, "Sect leader’s right there."
"What’s there to keep quiet about? Remember when Xu Kun was at this stage? So many seniors died because of him. If you ask me, any disciple who shows those signs shouldn’t be let into the inner sect. Flat out, cripple their cultivation, cut their spiritual veins, send them packing!"
Danyang, head of Guiyuan Sect, stood at the lookout, twisting his long beard as he gazed at the two disciples just launching into battle in the arena below.
They were so young, not even twenty, barely out of childhood in the world of cultivation. Their journeys had only just begun.
One was like a soft spring breeze, full of hope and renewal. The other, a wildfire, brilliant flames running riot. Both brimming with potential, both the kind of gifted children that made his ancient heart ache with envy.
He remembered his own first years, when his own ‘Dragons Ablaze, Yang soaring’ heart had won the affection of every teacher. Funny, how times changed; now any fire-based cultivation heart was seen as ominous, dangerous, stigmatized.
Danyang had weathered countless years, his sunset not far off. Still, for once, he wanted to stand his ground against all complaints. Before heading back to the cycle of reincarnation, he wanted to try: to prove that those pure, bright flames shouldn’t be cast aside forever, just because of a single past mistake.
He prayed that after him, the sect wouldn't remain trapped by old prejudices, missing out on so many diverse talents, growing ever narrower in its vision.
Zhuo’er, I may have put a burden on your shoulders, but I hope you won’t let your Master down.
The white-haired sect leader squinted, gaze fixed on the dueling platform.
In the center, the disciple everyone criticized lifted his head and looked right at the stands. Master Danyang, long beard streaming, stood front and center, watching only him. The crowd behind: illustrious, powerful Golden Core elders, all furtively gossiping among themselves.
Zhuo Yu didn’t even need to hear to know exactly what they were saying.
Ever since he’d joined, their stares had always been cold, always tainted with disgust.
"Master is just too soft-hearted, aren't they?"
"This decision is definitely a mistake."
"Just look at how that disciple injured Peak Lord Ding’s niece, and Peak Lord Ding hasn't even retaliated!"
"Anyway, from the moment he got in, I told all my disciples to stay away from that kid."
Ten years of whispers like this, never-ending, always at his back. He’d done nothing, yet ‘Blazing Fire across the Land’ had become a mark of shame. Not just on him, but on his respected Master, who’d had to shoulder endless criticism for his sake.
Across the ring stood his opponent, a boy so pure, open, and confident, safe in the heart of a lush green forest.
Cheering him on from every side, friends and fellow disciples filled the stands with shouts of encouragement.
Yu Ze, gentle as rain, a blessing to all beneath the heavens, destined for respect from the very first day, beloved by both peers and teachers.
He was Zhuo Yu’s opposite in every way. Standing in the roaring flames, Zhuo Yu thought: all this time, he’d never made a single friend, only collected other people’s resentment. Everyone acted like he’d burn everything down just by breathing. Sometimes, staring into all those cold, hateful eyes, real malice would flicker up in his chest, a wild urge to burn it all, let everything be ash.
Zhuo Yu formed a quick hand seal: "Winds, come."
A cloth sack woven from primordial clouds unfurled above the stage, bulging and unmoving in the air, its mouth wide open as a violent gale whipped up from nowhere.
Wind shrieked, stone dust blotted out the sky, and the fire found its breath, roaring, surging forward, overwhelming the boy on the other side, pushing him back step by step.
"The Hunyuan Pouch?"
"The sect leader actually gave him the Hunyuan Pouch? Unbelievable. Why does someone that reckless and unstable get honored with gifts from the elders?"
"It’s just not fair."
The crowd watching buzzed with arguments all at once.
Onstage, Xiao Changge saw the wave of heat rolling in, however he tried to summon rain, he just couldn’t suppress the surging inferno.
He was forced to press his hands together, summoning up a lustrous, shimmering cauldron.
Seated above, Kong Ji sneered, “What’s the point? One after another, banking on their treasures, does Xuandan Peak look like we’re handing out magic items over here?”
"So even the Goldlight Cauldron’s in play? That’s some serious bloodletting," Su Xingtin laughed, flicking his fan.
The Goldlight Cauldron spun through the air, runes glimmering with infinite arcane light, expanding in size as it turned. With a thunderous crash, it slammed to the center of the stage, the script along its sides slithering like golden serpents.
The sea of flames collapsed into the cauldron, trapped within, no matter how the wind howled or the fire raged, it couldn’t break through, couldn’t even get close to Xiao Changge.
Xiao Changge had just allowed himself a breath of relief when, through the inferno, a figure burst forth, face dark with fury, rushing straight for him.
Normally, in his cultivation duels, close combat barely mattered; the proper etiquette was to stay apart, trade spells, and see who came out ahead. No need for brawling up close and personal.
Who could have guessed that in the first round of this sect tournament, he’d go up against that fresh-faced little junior sister from Xiaoyao Peak. Sixteen, all dressed in red, but when she fought, there was nothing childlike about her, she got up close, lied when she needed to, struck without hesitation. She completely shattered his expectations.
Now, this prized disciple of the sect leader stood before him, fire blazing up her arm, advancing on him like she meant to tear him apart.
The challenger closed in almost instantly, aggressive and fast.
Xiao Changge formed a sword seal with his fingers, leaped back, and vanished behind a massive banyan tree. Its trunk and branches bristled and twisted, transforming into a thicket of wooden spikes that shot straight for Zhuo Yu’s shoulder.
They were so close, just those swaying banyan roots between them. Xiao Changge could see the other’s eyes, dark circles burning underneath, gaze crackling with battle fire. The hostility flashing across that face genuinely rattled him.
This rainy forest was his home turf. The trees bent to his will, solid wood reshaping into spears with needle-sharp tips, one of them all but pierced his shoulder. But Zhuo Yu didn’t flinch. His flaming arm punched straight through the barricade and lunged for him, not caring if his shoulder was torn apart, he was determined to grab him, even injured.
Xiao Changge froze. Since he’d joined Xuandan Peak, he'd specialized in alchemy, making external pills, aiding cultivation, saving lives. He’d trained in body arts on the side, but friendly sparring never turned this vicious. There was no actual blood shed among his peers. He faltered, too soft to drive those spikes through his senior brother’s heart.
Maybe it was just a split second. But for a protected Xuandan disciple, he still hadn’t learned that on a real battlefield, a moment’s hesitation could be the difference between life and death.
Zhuo Yu’s burning hand gripped him, pressing him face-down into the rain-soaked ground.
Xiao Changge felt himself slammed into the mud, arms wrenched behind his back, pressure pinned against the vital points at his lower back and neck. His spiritual energy stalled, leaving him helpless.
“Concede.” A cold, unfeeling voice rang out above him.
“No, I don’t concede. It’s not fair,” Xiao Changge muttered stubbornly. “I let up first.”
“Who promised you fairness? In this world, only the strong get to talk about fairness.”
Zhuo Yu shoved his head down into a puddle.
On the arena stage, a match only ended when one side admitted defeat, lost consciousness, or was thrown out of bounds. Zhuo Yu didn’t dare loosen his grip for an instant, Xiao Changge was tricky, and who knew if he’d ever subdue him again if he let up.
“Surrender and raise your hand, or I’ll drown you right here.”
Xiao Changge thrashed, but refused to lift his one free hand to signal surrender.
A stream of fire shot from the stands, slamming into the ring and knocking Zhuo Yu aside. A moment later, Xiao Changge was yanked out of the water.
The newcomer was none other than Xiao Changge’s master, Kong Ji, head of Xuandan Peak.
“Are you alright?” he asked, concern sharp as his disciple sputtered and gasped.
“I’m… I’m fine.” Xiao Changge coughed and waved a trembling hand.
Kong Ji’s scarred eyelid twitched. He shot a glare at Zhuo Yu, dripping with contempt. “Just like that other disgrace back then. Disgusting.”
He hauled Xiao Changge away on his flying artifact, tossing out, “Count this as our loss.”
From the stands, a low buzz of murmuring swept through the audience.
The match’s victor received neither cheers nor applause. He stood alone on stage, isolated and cold.
“So, Zhuo Yu’s your next opponent. Do you hate him?” Miao Hong’er angled toward Mu Xue, curious.
“Hate? Not at all. What’s there to hate?” Mu Xue couldn’t see the fuss from the crowd. “A duel’s a duel, you use whatever you’ve got. Win within the rules, and it’s a win. If you ask me, Xiao Changge just lacks battle experience. Sooner or later, he was bound to lose.”
“Listen to you, all chill about it. Still, Zhuo Yu’s got teeth. Watch your back out there.”
Mu Xue only grinned.
“Oh, laughing now? Not even a shred of fear in you.” Miao Hong’er poked her in the side, teasing. “Little Miss Invincible. Admit it, nervous yet?”
“Terrified.” Mu Xue looped her arm through hers, gazing at that lone figure on the stage.
If she hadn’t met her master and these irreplaceable senior siblings in this life, honestly, she’d make Zhuo Yu look meek. She used to be the coldest, toughest one; warmth was for other people.
Meanwhile, inside a teahouse in Fuwang City, a storyteller took the stage with his little apprentice, spinning the latest tales for the gathered crowd.
Below the platform, grizzled hunters, men who lived and bled by the sword, lost themselves in the salacious highs and lows, if only for a moment. In this room, there were no beast claws or demon jaws. They joked, whistled, and urged the old man, “No skipping the good parts! Give us the juicy details!”
The storyteller’s lips curled with practiced flair. With every beat of his wooden clapper and every twist in his timbre, he pulled the crowd deeper, painting heartbreak and passion so vivid you could taste them. At the best part, he picked up his rhythm and rattled off, “So Master Mu, the playboy legend himself, once he’d tasted that forbidden fruit, tossed his little disciple aside. That day, he was off flirting with Young Master Yan again with that same glint in his eye, ”
He never finished. From a quiet corner, a figure in black appeared out of nowhere and seized him by the collar, slamming his face into the table.
The regulars, all tough guys, quick to reach for their weapons, were about to curse him out, but then they saw it: black iron, scale-like armor rippling down the stranger’s arm, the infamous mark of a certain someone from legend.
Every bold, righteous patron instantly fell silent, edged away, and then, in a noisy scramble, cleared out.
“Repeat what you just said,” the newcomer said, icy and indifferent, revealing a strikingly handsome face that made the storyteller shiver to his bones.
“N-no... I didn’t say anything.” The storyteller was shaking so badly he could barely string words together.
People have been spinning tales like this for a hundred years, and that Master Cen never seemed to mind.
He barely left his rundown old estate, rarely showing his face in the new city. Just his luck that he’d show up in person to hear a story on his watch.
“Master Cen, I was wrong, it’s all my fault!” He threw both hands up, groveling with care, “Next time, I swear, I won’t just make up nonsense. I’ll tell it properly, truly!”
Although the man hadn’t killed him, those cold iron claws refused to let go.
The storyteller’s mind raced, replaying his patter for the moment he’d most likely offended someone.
“R-right. I really was out of line just now. Next time, I’ll depict you as the hero of the tale! Mu Xue will be completely devoted, attending you, gentle and sweet.” He tested the waters, trying to free himself from the armored grip pressing into his throat.
Suddenly, razor-sharp blades slid out from the iron armor and pressed coldly against his neck.
The storyteller was on the verge of tears. “W-what do you want from me?”
His little disciple peeked out from under a nearby table, voice tentative, “N-next time... Mu Xue ignores the young master of the Yan family, and sends him packing, far away.”
The blade whisked back into the armor in an instant.
Inspired, the storyteller quickly chimed in, “Yes, yes! Once Mu Xue has you, she’d never even glance at another pretty boy. In the next story, she’ll firmly reject all those advances from Young Master Yan and Young Master Liu. Head over heels, sweet on you alone, just the two of you, wrapped up in each other all day, every day.”
“Really? Can you truly make it so?” That deep voice rang out again.
“Really, absolutely! Honestly, all those extra characters are just there to make you look good, to keep things interesting. But with looks like yours? No woman could see anyone else!”
The iron grip at his throat finally loosened. Just as suddenly as the grim reaper had appeared, he vanished without a trace.
All that remained on the table were a few glimmering spirit stones, rolling to a stop.
The storyteller cast a quick glance left and right, then swept the stones greedily into his robe and ducked under the table, wiping cold sweat off his brow.
“If not for my clever disciple, I’d be a goner…”
At the nearby Niu’s Eatery, someone pushed aside the hanging curtain.
Cen Qianshan, draped in black robes, strode inside.
Niu Dashuai, lounging behind the counter with his feet up, leapt down and pulled him aside.
“I used up all the spirit stones you gave me, but I dug up something at last.” He glanced around, keeping his voice low. “Heard the Decennial Imperial Array’s about to open, and all the big-names from major sects are picking disciples to send over here so they can try the local trials, snatching up treasures and rare herbs to take back home.”
Cen Qianshan’s head snapped up; he opened his mouth, then said nothing. Niu Dashuai rubbed his palms together, eyes alight. “So, what do you think? Any chance Mu Xue will show up on her own this time?”